


in the morning

by mortalitasi



Series: a crown of poppies [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 07:20:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3759394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortalitasi/pseuds/mortalitasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The best part of being tiny is that everything is a blanket. Including the large, ridiculous, fluffy overcoat of your workaholic boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the morning

**Author's Note:**

> short 'n sweet~*

He has no idea what inspires her to be as silly as she is, and some days it makes him feel like ripping his own very studiously taken-care-of hair out, but  _today,_ it’s making him laugh. 

She’s so much smaller than him that even his most form-fitting of doublets falls… short on her, and while that is just bordering on the comical, her attempting to wrestle herself into his furred cape is outright hilarious. So he just sits there, leaned against the headboard, sheets tangled around him and the morning air cool on his bare skin, watching her struggle with the offending article of clothing as though it’s a live opponent. The fact that she’s wearing nothing else helps. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake– where the  _hell_  do you put your head?” she says at last, thrusting the cape at him. Her impossibly long hair is loose around her shoulders, unbound, just as much a cloak as the thing she’s holding– or, rather, had been. “ _You_  solve it. How do you put it on every day?” 

He nearly rolls his eyes at her impatience, and obligingly straightens the cape out, fluffing it with care. “Lift your arms,” he orders. 

“Pfft,” she snorts, and then does as she’s told. “Yes,  _Commander_.”

Cullen draws it down over her, fingers brushing at her shoulders and sides as he does so. Scars pepper her skin, at the back, over her ribs, in starbursts of pale healed flesh, and he doesn’t mind any of them. Her arms slip through the sleeves, and then… nothing. 

“…Nehn?” he asks, hesitantly, and as he finishes that word, her head pops up amidst the ruff of thick fur around the cape’s neck. He doesn’t startle, but she grins ghoulishly at him anyway, all sharp teeth and childish happiness, her hazel eyes aglow with delight. 

“Boo,” she deadpans.

“I’m dead stiff with fright,” he assures her, which draws a chuckle out of her, and then she scoots over in his direction until their noses are almost touching. He wonders how he’s come to be so blessed, looking at her, thanking the Maker for his good fortune.

“Good morning,” Nehn whispers.

“Good morning,” he replies, just as quietly, and kisses her.


End file.
